“Uh-huh,” he said. “There’s one about an Indian maiden he told.”

Mrs. Darrow sat bolt upright in bed. Her black eyes glared at Thomas.

“Shhh! Mr. Thomas, don’t you say nothing about that!” Pesty said.

“What, the Indian maiden?” Thomas asked before he thought.

Mrs. Darrow commenced climbing out of the bed.

“What a pretty shawl! You like that pretty shawl, Mama!” Pesty said in a loud whisper. “Great-grandmother Jeffers, you want it back today?”

“Why, no, dear, you let your mama wear it as long as she wants to. She seems to like it.”

Distracted by talk of the shawl, Mrs. Darrow grabbed hold of it to wrap it more tightly around her. She climbed back into bed.

Thomas was amazed at how fast she could move. What would she have done to him? he wondered. He gazed at her long, thick hair and then, around the room, just so she wouldn’t think he was staring. There was a picture on the wall opposite him. He couldn’t quite make it out.

They say Indian hair is like hers. So there is native ancestry on the mother’s side? he thought. He reminded himself that Darrow men were descended partly from Indians, too. River Ross, River Lewis ... He recalled that it was River Thames said to have come here with Dies Drear. Do you suppose—

“What is your mama’s name?” he asked Pesty, barely moving his lips. Pesty was there in front of him, sitting on the bed, holding her mama’s hand.

Before she could speak, Mrs. Darrow spoke. “I sit with my feet on the right,” she said.

“Mama, come on now,” Pesty said, patting her hand. She glanced around apologetically. “When she’s feeling better, she likes to talk,” she said.

“Call me Eater,” Mrs. Darrow said in a disjointed, detached voice. “Hunters brought back plenty food. I will eat anythin’.” She laughed hugely.

Thomas and Great-grandmother Jeffers were bewildered.

“Mr. Thomas, don’t say nothing,” Pesty said, casually. “She’s telling something, maybe talking about the—” Pesty mouthed the words “Indian maiden.”

“When they were together one time,” Mrs. Darrow murmured, “she told Brave Wolf, ‘If you dare to beat me again, I will fight you. I don’t care if you kill me.’ After that moment he was ever her slave.”

“She’s just talking,” Pesty said happily. “Guess just snatches of stories.”

“From October until June,” Mrs. Darrow murmured, “October till June.” She closed her eyes and appeared to go to sleep.

“She’s in the October-June phase now,” said a voice. “She’s not just talking.”

Thomas jumped up and spun around, almost toppling the chair he had been sitting on. There stood Mac Darrow. How long he had been there Thomas couldn’t say. Macky was like a tall, dark shadow, holding the door open with his shoulder. Now he came up to stand at Thomas’s side. He still had the outdoors about him, and a musty scent, too. He looked dusty. He put a dirt-smeared hand on the back of the chair. “You—you want to sit down?” Thomas asked, and moved out of his way.

Macky sat down. Nodded at his sleeping mama and Pesty. He stood up again, absently, to greet Great-grandmother Jeffers. Pesty told him who Great-grandmother was, that she and Thomas had walked over to visit. Then, looking exhausted, Macky sat down again.

Great-grandmother Jeffers smiled. She regarded Mac Darrow, but she didn’t say anything to him. His hair was gray with dirt and dust. His face, his clothes were damp and soiled. He’s been hunting underground, she realized. What a peculiar family, all the time scurrying in the dark.

They were silent, watching Macky. Thomas felt a keen sympathy for him. Macky looked beaten. Sort of like he’s sick of ... himself, Thomas thought.

Pesty frowned at Thomas and Great-grandmother. Slowly it dawned on him that the frown was a warning: Keep still. Don’t give anything away to Macky. Why? Thomas wondered. He’s on our side, isn’t he? Well, you wouldn’t know it by the way he tricked me in the woods. He’s still a Darrow, and don’t forget it.

There was a long silence. Macky studied his mother’s sleeping face. In sleep she didn’t look at all odd or crazy, Thomas noted. “I got lost,” Macky said abruptly. “Fell into a hole by accident.” Smirking. “Been lost for three hours. Never thought I’d see the light of day.”

15

“LOST? WHAT HOLE?” Pesty said. “You know Daddy says not to go wandering around. That’s how you get lost. Not minding. You not mind, a tunnel will fall in on you one time.”

Pesty surprised Thomas. She seemed to him even more upset than what she said to Macky showed. She walked the tunnels. But then she did know where she was going.

“Are there many tunnels?” asked Great-grandmother.

“I don’t know,” Pesty said. “I’m not allowed to play around in them.” She gazed hard, warning, at Thomas and Great-grandmother.

She’s hiding everything from Macky. I don’t like it, Thomas thought. What if he found out? Maybe that’s why he’s been exploring underground. He didn’t fall into a hole. He could’ve gone in the same way Pesty and I did into Pluto’s cave. Maybe he’s the someone got in there, trying to find out something.

Macky ignored Pesty. He was staring at his mama. “If you forget what you’re doing for a minute, you can get lost,” he said with sadness. “If you get scared and panic, you’ll never find your way back.”

Is he talking about himself or his mama? Thomas wondered.

“You want to sit down?” Macky asked Thomas politely.

“No, thank you,” Thomas said, pleased that Macky remembered he was there.

“You must not have panicked down there then, young man,” said Great-grandmother Jeffers, “else you wouldn’t be among us.”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t,” Mac Darrow said. “But when I couldn’t find my way, I thought I’d never get out.” He studied space at the foot of the bed.

“You were lucky,” said Great-grandmother.

Silence, like a storm gathering, surrounded them. Pesty looked doubtfully at Macky; he stared defiantly at the floor.

Mrs. Darrow opened her eyes. Grinning, she greeted her son. “Mac, Macs, Ha-ha. Make tracks. Let’s go hunting. Ha-ha.”

Forlornly Macky smiled. He leaned over, kissed his mama’s cheek. Thomas never would’ve believed big Mac Darrow could do something so tender.

He turned to them and explained. “Mama, talking about travelin’ in the October-June time, like the season is now. Talking about a hundred, hundred fifty years ago. She must’ve heard tales. Just bits and pieces, I guess. If you listen good, you might can figure it. Sometimes I think I know, but then I don’t know.”

“Figure what?” Pesty said suspiciously.

“Figure out the time when the people had to separate each fall, and in winter and spring, too,” Macky said. “They couldn’t all stay in one place and feed everybody and all the horses. So they had to part company. But in the summer the bands got back together for the hunt or maybe to fight an enemy.”

“Your mama is—are you talking about—about Indians?” Thomas said.

“She’ll talk about sitting on the right. That’s the way most of the tribewomen sat, although I don’t know which tribe,” Macky said. “And which must mean some other women sat with their feet on the left, I guess.”

“Oh, shoot. Mama don’t mean nothing by that stuff!” Pesty said.

Said too quickly, it seemed to Great-grandmother Jeffers. She watched Pesty and then Macky and listened intently. It’s all mixed up, but it makes sense, too, she was thinking. Here we have a brother and sister at odds. Each has a piece of some lost puzzle. Pesty knows much. Macky is trying to discover.

“The Indian …” Thomas started to say “maiden” but remembered not to. At the same moment the picture on the wall across from him caught his attention.

Macky nodded with regard to the Indian maiden. “She’s hightailing it in all the stories. She’s running away, either from someone trying to run faster,” he said, “or from somethin’ else.”